Afterlife
by saxgirl42
Summary: Upon his death, Squalo finds himself thrown into the Soul Society. This does not bode well. Rated for language and smut.


**A/N:** Eh heh heh. Yeah. This was written for a friend of mine on the MangaFox forums. It was originally meant to be just smut, but the writer in me revolted and it mutated. *headdesk*

So, s_k, THIS IS FOR YOU. I hope you like it! *hugs*

Just a couple quick things: This is one of my first smut-fics. Be kind. Also, yes, the characters might be OOC at some points, but that is only because this situation is pretty illogical in canon. Yep.

Now please enjoy, and don't kill me! XD

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to their respective owners.

- - - - -

Death was strange. Apparently it sent souls to feudal Japan, even when a soul was originally from Italy and didn't know anything whatsoever about Japanese religion. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the soul had died in Japan. Or maybe it was just where everyone went.

Either way, it was strange.

And because it was so strange, said soul – one Superbi Squalo – chose to voice his irritation upon his arrival to the entirety of the Soul Society.

"VOOOOIII! WHERE THE HELL AM I?"

The nearby citizens of the Rukongai scurried away from the loud and frightening newcomer, but one man mustered up enough courage to explain.

"Uh, sir?" he said, approaching the silver-haired man cautiously. "This is the Soul Society. The Rukongai, to be exact."

"And what the hell is that?" Squalo demanded.

"This is the afterlife," the man said. "I'm sorry, but… you're dead."

Squalo said nothing. The man, understanding that being dead took some time to digest, excused himself with another kind apology.

It took exactly two minutes for Squalo to regain his senses.

And then…

"DAMN IT!" he roared, and slammed a fist into a nearby wall.

A bad idea, in retrospect.

"Fuck," he said, shaking out his hand and trying to think.

So he was _dead_? That was impossible. How the hell had –?

Zakuro.

That _bastard_.

That bastard had actually _killed_ him! Xanxus would never let him live it down...

Wait.

Did Xanxus even know he was dead? Did _anyone_?

Squalo looked around at all the dead souls, complacently going about their business without a care in the world.

This wouldn't do. He couldn't be dead.

He had to get out of there.

Squalo grabbed a random man by the arm and yelled, "Who's in charge here?"

The man wibbled a bit before replying, "Th-the Shinigami, I guess."

"Where can I find them?"

"Th-they're up in the Seireitei," the man said, pointing down the street. "But I d-don't think you can get in, they usually don't –"

Squalo had already stopped paying attention. He shoved the man away and strode off in the direction the man had indicated.

Like hell he couldn't get in.

He'd just see about that.

- - - - -

"Captain!"

Jushiro Ukitake glanced up from the young lady he was talking to just as three Shinigami turned the corner, running at full speed.

"Captain," their leader – Kotetsu Kiyone – panted as she approached. "Sorry to bother you, but there's a problem in the Rukongai. A rebellious soul. Your assistance has been requested."

Ukitake apologized to the girl he had been talking to and turned to his lieutenant. "Where is this soul?"

"He's not that hard to find," Kiyone said as they headed out. "Just follow the noise."

To punctuate this, a series of shouts and one very loud "VOOOIII!" echoed over the rooftops. Kiyone half-smiled at her captain.

"See?" she said.

Before they could travel another block, a silver-haired figure came careening around the corner and slid to a halt before them, sword in hand. His sharp eyes took in the uniformed figures before him, and he raised his weapon.

"I assume you're the so-called Shinigami?" he spat with a glare. Ukitake took a defensive stance in front of his officers, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I am Jushiro Ukitake, Captain of the 13th Division. What seems to be the problem?"

"The problem is that I'm fucking _dead_, and I have to get the hell out of here," Squalo snapped. "Make it happen."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Ukitake said.

"You're not serious," Squalo growled, and Ukitake's hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to drop your weapon."

"Oh yeah? What for?"

"It's a precaution. Now drop it before I am forced to take it from you."

Squalo laughed and stepped into an attack position.

"I'd like to see you try," he hissed.

The next thing he knew, he was dazed, pinned against a wall, and weaponless. His eyes widened as he stared into the Shinigami's calm face.

"Wha –"

"You're no match for me here," Ukitake said softly, holding Squalo's sword out for his lieutenant to take. His other hand was buried in the fabric at Squalo's neck, keeping him pinned to the wall. "And since you tried to attack a Captain, I'm afraid we're going to have to take you into custody."

Normally Squalo would have replied to this pronouncement with skepticism, but he didn't really feel like taking another chance. His head still hurt from being slammed into the building.

- - - - -

A day passed, and then another. Squalo sat in one of the Seireitei's nameless prisons, growing more and more frustrated and dangerously bored. The longer he stayed, the less likely it seemed that he'd be able to leave this whole death thing. It was a gloomy prospect.

Relief came on the third day of his imprisonment.

The door swung open without a sound, but Squalo didn't need to hear it to be aware of another presence in the room. He glanced over. It was the captain from before… Ukitake?

"It's Squalo, right?" the captain asked. "How are you feeling?" Squalo narrowed his eyes; the man sounded far too kind to be powerful. It reminded Squalo of the katana-brat back home: too nice for his own good.

"What do you want?" Squalo asked. Ukitake smiled.

"Nothing in particular. I just came to see if you had calmed down. You don't have to stay in here forever, you know."

"Of course I know that," Squalo snapped. At least, he had assumed it. He was new to the Soul Society, didn't know the laws, blah blah blah. At least, that was what he had been told.

"Would you like to get some exercise?" Ukitake asked. "You've been cooped up for a couple days now, and I'm in need of something to do."

"What did you have in mind?" Squalo asked, still suspicious.

"How about a duel?" Ukitake said. "I assume you have some skill with a blade, since you wielded one with such confidence the other day."

Squalo quirked an eyebrow. "You're serious."

"Completely."

Squalo narrowed his eyes at the captain one last time – just so his irritation with the man was completely noticeable – then got to his feet and stretched.

"Fine. But no tricks. This won't be like the last time," he said. Ukitake inclined his head politely.

"No tricks. I promise."

- - - - -

The fight took place in one of the largest training yards in the Seireitei, and attracted a small crowd. It was rare to see the 13th captain fight, and rumors of the fierce newcomer had spread like wildfire through the Seireitei.

Squalo hefted his sword with displeasure. He wasn't used to _holding_ a weapon (apparently his built-in sword didn't follow him to the afterlife), but it would have to do.

Squalo glared across the battlefield at his opponent, who was laughing at something a scruffy man in a pink kimono had just said.

Jushiro Ukitake.

Too nice for his own good.

Squalo would have to teach him the same lesson he had tried to teach that brat Yamamoto.

Ukitake stepped into the arena and Squalo followed suit, twirling his sword in long fingers.

"Are you ready?" Ukitake asked with a smile, unsheathing his own weapon. Squalo grinned humorlessly.

"Let's go."

A hush fell over the training yard as the fight began. The duelists were cautious at first, gauging the other's strength, dancing in, dancing out, barely connecting. Both were obviously talented, and the spectators had trouble finding an advantage either way.

The steps quickened. The swords made contact, hissing through the air, meeting with a metallic ring, then swinging out again. The duelists circled. One would leap in, sword whistling through the air, only to be met with the opponent's blade and sent back.

Squalo was grinning. It had been a long time since he had fought someone this talented. The only other swordsman at his level was Yamamoto, but this was nothing like fighting the kid. Ukitake had years of experience that Yamamoto could only dream of, and a natural grace that even Squalo had to admire.

The small crowd of spectators faded from notice as they circled again, and Squalo caught a brief glimpse of approval on Ukitake's face before the Shinigami darted in for another attack. He feinted to the left, forcing Squalo to check his blade in order to barely deflect the blow that would have separated his left leg from the rest of him. The force of the attack sent Squalo reeling for a moment, but he was a professional. By the time Ukitake could attack again, Squalo was ready for it, and he swept his sword under and up, keeping his opponent at a distance.

"You're quite good," Ukitake said as they circled each other once more. Squalo smirked.

"They didn't call me the Sword Emperor for nothing," he said, then sprinted in for another attack. His aim was sure. He swung, expecting either the clang of steel-on-steel or the solid sound of a blade slicing flesh, but was met with… nothing. Just the whistle of his sword through the air.

He froze for a second, eyes darting around, looking for Ukitake. How could he have -?

A blade kissed his neck and he stiffened, eyes wide.

"You took your eyes off me for a second," a voice said in his ear. "That's all it takes."

Squalo roared and swung backwards, but again he met with nothing. The sword was gone from his neck, and Ukitake was gone from his sights.

"You said no tricks!" he yelled into the empty space.

"It's not a trick," Ukitake said from behind him, and Squalo whirled. The captain looked almost offended. "Just because I move faster than you does not mean I'm cheating."

Squalo growled and prepared for another attack, but Ukitake was gone again. "Damn it," he cursed and went on the defensive, waiting for the captain to show himself.

Something shifted to his left, and Squalo lashed out. Steel met steel with a ringing clang, and then Ukitake was gone again.

"Well done," the Shinigami's voice said from seemingly nowhere, and Squalo grunted.

This pattern continued for a few minutes until Squalo began to get the hang of it. He had a feeling Ukitake was trying to teach him something, but he chose not to linger on that. Instead he concentrated all of his energy on just _touching_ the man. One blow. That was all he asked.

His chance came a moment later. Something scuffed against the ground to his right while he was waiting for Ukitake to reappear and Squalo spun, sword at the ready. He paused when he caught sight of the captain, doubled over and coughing harshly into his sleeve. Squalo lowered his sword (even he wasn't enough of a bastard to attack a distracted opponent) and frowned; was that blood on Ukitake's sleeve…?

"What happened?" he asked, slightly worried. Had he hurt him without knowing?

Before Ukitake could answer, the scruffy man from earlier appeared beside the captain and slid a supportive arm around his waist.

"Don't worry about it," the man said, beginning to lead Ukitake away. "He's just having a bad day. This fight's over." Two young Shinigami came to help the man in the kimono, and together they bustled Ukitake off the practice field and out of sight, leaving Squalo motionless on the field behind them.

- - - - -

Squalo remained in his cell for another couple of days, but only as a formality until the paperwork on his "case" was finished. The Shinigami let him out for fresh air and rarely locked his door, but it didn't make him feel any better.

Ukitake didn't visit again.

Squalo knew it was ridiculous for him to be worried. He had only known the man for a few days, and in that time had spoken to him only briefly, but he couldn't get that bloodstain out of his head. What the hell did it mean, anyway? Had Squalo injured him without knowing it? If anything, that thought made him feel worse, and he cursed himself for being unable to let the issue go.

He was released two days after the fight, and he had no idea what to do with himself. He wandered the streets aimlessly and decided death was boring. Once he ran into a female Shinigami who demanded to know what he was doing in the Seireitei. He told her he was lost, had her point him in the right direction, and resumed his wandering.

After a while Squalo decided that he had to make sure that dumb captain was all right. He asked the next Shinigami he ran into where he could find Ukitake, and followed their directions to one of the barracks. A sign by the door bore the Japanese symbol for thirteen, and Squalo vaguely remembered being told that Ukitake was the captain of the 13th division, so he figured he was in the right place.

He rapped on the door and it slid open to reveal the small blond girl from his first encounter with Ukitake.

"You!" she said, her eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"

Squalo glared at her – who was _this_ bitch? – and said, "I want to speak with your captain."

"And why should I let you –"

"Kiyone." Ukitake appeared in the far doorway. "You can let him in."

"Yes, sir," Kiyone said grudgingly, and stepped back to let Squalo through.

Ukitake showed him into a tidy office and closed the door behind them. Squalo stood rather awkwardly in the center of the room. He hadn't thought much farther than this.

"So. What can I do for you?" Ukitake asked with a polite smile. Squalo watched the man carefully. That smile seemed weaker than it had a few days ago, and his skin was paler, as well. Something was wrong.

"I wanted to see how you were," Squalo said. "And ask about what happened during our fight."

"I'm fine now," Ukitake said, his smile faltering. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Like hell it isn't," Squalo growled. "You were coughing up blood!"

"Squalo…"

"What is it? Did I injure you or something? Because I didn't think –"

"Squalo," Ukitake interrupted. "It wasn't you. I'm ill. That's all."

"Ill?"

"Yes."

"… With what?"

"Tuberculosis."

Squalo just stared.

"Is that all you wanted?" Ukitake asked.

No, Squalo thought. No, he wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. He didn't understand it, but something about this man intrigued him."How long have you been sick?" he asked.

"Decades."

Squalo clenched his fists at his sides. "And there's nothing you can do?"

"No."

Squalo fell into silence again and Ukitake sighed.

"Maybe you should go. I can't –"

He never finished, because Squalo had pinned him to the wall and was kissing him ravenously.

It wasn't premeditated. It wasn't even a very good kiss at first, with too much force and shock and clashing of teeth. Squalo calmed himself a bit when they came up for air, and was pleasantly surprised when it was Ukitake who leaned forward for the second kiss, clearly just as hungry for this as Squalo.

Ukitake's lips shifted against Squalo's, softer than before, gentle, coaxing. His tongue brushed Squalo's bottom lip, seeking entrance. Squalo let him in and moaned slightly when their tongues touched. He curled a hand into the soft, silvery hair at the back of Ukitake's head to prolong the contact. The Shinigami tasted phenomenal, like nothing he had experienced before. It was completely intoxicating.

Ukitake pulled away after a minute, panting slightly, and Squalo started sucking on the man's neck instead. Lean muscles tensed under his lips, and he grinned against the pale skin.

"What are we doing?" Ukitake breathed.

"Think of it as exercise," Squalo said between kisses, sliding his hands under the soft white fabric of the captain's jacket. He was becoming more certain of what he wanted with every passing moment. "I've been cooped up for a while… and you need something to do."

Ukitake laughed breathlessly at that, gripping the dark fabric of Squalo's shirt as the swordsman worked his neck.

"Is that going to be our excuse for – _ngh_ – everything now?" he asked. Squalo nipped playfully at the curve of his collarbone.

"That depends," he said. "Does it work?"

"Wha -? Ah, God," Ukitake gasped. "Yeah. Yeah, it works." He leaned his head back, allowing more access to his throat, but Squalo stopped his ministrations for a second, frowning.

"You're okay, right?" he asked. Ukitake blinked at him, slightly dazed.

"Sorry?"

"Your sickness," Squalo said. "The last time we 'exercised,' you ended up coughing up blood." Ukitake rolled his eyes and tugged Squalo's face down to meet his.

"I'll be fine," he murmured against the swordsman's lips, and the contact sent shivers down Squalo's spine. Squalo grinned and leaned in further, flattening Ukitake against the wall once more. He nibbled the sensitive skin at the base of Ukitake's jaw and lapped at the pink bite marks he had made on that perfect neck just a few minutes ago, drawing a soft keening noise from the captain.

Squalo slipped his hands beneath the fabric of Ukitake's haori, tugging it over his shoulders and down. Likewise, long, agile fingers made quick work of Squalo's shirt and soon both men were devoid of most of their clothes.

"Ah, God," Ukitake breathed with a little laugh before claiming Squalo's lips again, his hands buried in the swordsman's hair. Squalo ignored him and allowed his hands to roam over Ukitake's back, his fingers skirting over old scars and lithe muscles.

"So," he murmured between kisses, "you can be sick… and you can scar… even though you're dead?"

"Is that really what you're concerned about right now?" Ukitake asked, calmly slipping his hand down to Squalo's crotch and giving him a firm squeeze. Squalo's back arched a little and he let out a laugh; he hadn't expected Ukitake to be so forward.

"Maybe not," he gasped, determined not to let the point drop, "but seeing as I'm going to be dead for a while, I may as well learn the basics from a pro, right?" Ukitake smiled and Squalo had a hard time concentrating on much else. He leaned forward and kissed those wonderfully ravished lips again, and was rewarded with another quick squeeze that made him moan.

Ukitake broke away and brought his mouth to Squalo's ear, whispering, "That seems logical."

Squalo squirmed against Ukitake's slowly stroking hand, biting his lip and struggling to keep his train of thought.

"So can you die here?" he managed, closing his eyes in an attempt to ignore how good Ukitake's hand felt, but it only made it worse. He was already hard and his concentration was quickly waning.

"Of course," Ukitake whispered against Squalo's neck, his breath sending warm tingles down the swordsman's spine. Squalo shivered and clutched at Ukitake's shoulders, his nails digging in slightly.

"What happens then?" he groaned. Ukitake chuckled lightly and reached into Squalo's pants, cupping him.

"Why?" he asked, stroking the length teasingly. "Are you worried?" Squalo bit back another moan, but couldn't stop his hips from thrusting into Ukitake's hand.

"Not at the moment," he gasped. "But it's something to keep in mind, right?"

"Right," Ukitake said, brushing Squalo's lips with his own and biting at the man's bottom lip playfully. His hand was wrapped around Squalo's member, stroking and squeezing with expertise, and Squalo couldn't help a little whimper, his mind now as far from the rules of the Soul Society as could be.

"Let's concentrate a bit more on the matter at hand, now, shall we?" Ukitake whispered, his dark eyes flashing. "I think you're about ready."

Squalo groaned and threw his head back as Ukitake worked him. He would have to release soon, he knew, but suddenly a strange sensation passed through his body and his vision blurred.

"Wait," he murmured, blinking rapidly. "What the hell was that?"

"Hm?"

"Agh!" Squalo shuddered again, but from something other than the hand down his pants. It felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped over his head.

"Seriously! What is that?" he demanded. Ukitake paused, his brow knitting.

"What's wrong?" he asked, but Squalo couldn't answer. His vision was going dark, and the more he tried to clutch at consciousness, the faster it seemed to fade. The last thing he heard was Ukitake calling his name before darkness claimed him.

- - - - -

It was ten years back, and Byakuran had been defeated. The future was changed. The Vongola family was still whole.

But, of course, only a select few knew all of the details.

"Squalo!"

Squalo looked over to see the brats coming toward him, Yamamoto at their head. They were all grinning, but there was something more beneath their smiles… something sad.

"Why the hell are you looking at me like that?" Squalo demanded.

"It's just nice to see you. That's all," Yamamoto said, his smile brightening. Squalo glared at him, ignoring the rest of the group.

"I hope you didn't slack off while you've been gone," he snapped. "Bring your sword. I'm going to kick your ass." With that he turned heel and left, not even checking to make sure that Yamamoto followed.

So what if the brats were acting weird? It didn't matter to him.

He had work to do.

- - - - -

**A/N:** Sorry if the end is confusing. Basically Tsuna and Co. defeated Byakuran, so Squalo was never killed.

Comment if you liked! Thanks, guys!


End file.
